


Rings a Bell

by syrenpan



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: A Christmas Carol retold, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fenders, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5331305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenpan/pseuds/syrenpan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://icantivan.tumblr.com/post/134213725440/its-first-advent">icantivan</a> is doing Dragon Age Advent Prompt Calendar.<br/>"...every day from Dec 1st till Dec 24th I’ll post a prompt (feel free to spread them around! Or fill them either would be cool). Hopefully they’ll make you laugh (or sad, depending on which). Maybe they’ll even inspire some." </p><p>I will try to make them all Fenders or Fenders related unless it is absolutely not possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rings a Bell

**Author's Note:**

> Advent Prompt #1
> 
> Merrill tries to convince Fenris of the delight that is the Christkindlmarket.

'Well, you can't stay in here forever,' Merrill, his former room-mate, admonished, trying to snatch Fenris' book out of his hands.

He elegantly sidestepped her without even looking as she was about to pounce. She lost balance and face-planted onto his couch. While listening to her scream into the cushions, Fenris walked into his kitchen and poured himself another cup of coffee.

He took his nose out of his book when it suddenly occurred to him that technically Merrill was his guest, although she walked in and out of his apartment as if she still lived here, and he very much would like for her to leave, but some things were drilled into you to the core.

'Do you want coffee?' he asked.

She glared at him over the back of the couch and said, 'I want to drink mulled wine and listen to the carol singers.'

'No one is stopping you,' Fenris replied and indicated the front door with his coffee cup.

'Oh, come on!' Merrill whined and got off the couch.

Fenris took a sip of coffee and pointedly opened his book again. Trying his best to avoid her, he took the other way around the sofa and sat down.

'Why are you always such a grump?' Merrill asked, hands on her hips.

'Why are you still here?'

Instead of leaving, the young woman sat down again and leaned into his personal space. Fenris could feel his eye-brow twitching. 'Because I promised I would bring you along, and I always keep my promises. Please, Fenris, come to the Christkindlmarket!'

'Just tell them I have a cold,' he said but immediately retracted the suggestion as he remembered what had happened the last time he had used that excuse. Four concerned friends and Hawke's mother had shown up on his doorstep with homemade chicken soup and other trusted remedies to get him back on his feet. There was no way he was going through all that again.

With a sigh, he closed his book, took off his glasses and looked her in the eyes before he said, 'Give me one good reason why I should come.'

'Because you can drink mulled wine. Because the music is both jolly and moving. Because good people have put their heart and soul into making beautiful things they want to give to you for a moderate fee so you can make your home festive. Because you can eat food you would normally avoid like the plague all year round but it will miraculously taste amazing because you know why? Because it's the Christkindlmarket – it's magic!' Fenris would have sworn Merrill's eyes had started to glow as she rattled off her list. He automatically tried to scoot even further away from her.

'So, does that sound like fun?'

There were so many words that immediately leapt to mind but “fun” was not among them. How could he explain it to her?

'Merrill, please listen to me carefully,' she nodded vigorously, making her red hair extensions fly around her pretty head.

'I like my wine room temperature or chilled. I want my music to tear my heart out of my chest, make me scream, make me want to pound my fist into the walls, or make me feel completely calm, but under no circumstances do I want it to be “jolly” or “moving”. Do you get me?' Fenris explained patiently. Merrill was about to protest when he held up his finger to indicate that he wasn't done yet.

'The “beautiful things” are most likely, like everything else these days, made by slave labour in China and what you call so quaintly “a moderate fee”, I call extortion. As for the food...,' he hesitated. The food _was_ good but he could hardly admit that now. 'My body is a temple, I will not sully it by eating grilled meats and frilly cakes, not ever.'

Merrill sat back and stared at him as if he had just kicked a puppy. 'Oh,' was all she said as she got off the couch. Fenris breathed a sigh of relief when she slowly put on her coat and donned her kitty eared hat.

He was about to put his glasses back on when he heard her say, 'Bye then, I guess I shall just tell Anders you couldn't make it.'

The name resounded like the ringing of a bell in Fenris' head. It drowned out even the slamming of the door.

Five minutes later Merrill got so startled by Fenris' arm wrapping around her shoulders as she walked to the bus stop that she screamed loud enough for people around them to look and stare before they decided it was nothing and moved on.

'By the dread wolf, you scared me,' she said, still a bit flustered but immediately started to grin. 'I have changed you mind, haven't I?

'That you have, my friend, that you have.'

The End


	2. Melava, Melana, Mahvir - Act 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #2 - Solas meets with the Spirits of Past, Present and Future
> 
> A play in two Acts. Because it's too much for one chapter. I will publish the second Act tomorrow. And yes, it has a Fenders reference. HAH!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dramatis Personae:
> 
> Cole: Fred  
> Solas: Scrooge  
> Anders: Jacob Marley  
> Mythal: Belle  
> Ellana Lavellan: herself

'Tears on her face, streaming, streaking. _Why now? What did I do to make him hate me so?_ Sighing. Sad. Sorrow. You sent her away!' Cole exclaimed, sounding surprised.

Solas closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. The wound too fresh to be touched, even by Compassion.

'It is done. Please leave it be,' Solas pleaded as gentle as possible.

' _Ar lath ma, vhenan._ But you love her.' Cole pointed out, unintentionally twisting the knife.

'Cole!' Solas snapped and immediately hated himself for it. Much softer, he said, 'Cole, please, not now.'

The spirit vanished and left nothing but emptiness which suited Solas just fine at the moment. He had to focus, had to be cruel to be kind. The Din'Anshiral awaited and he had to be ready.

No-one else spoke to him all day. He had expected angry threats or even malicious pranks but when no spiders or cracked eggs manifested in his bed, Solas understood that they were truly furious with him for having broken Ellana's heart. They were excluding him even before the final fight against the enemy he had unwittingly helped to create. He wished he could say it didn't matter.

'Focus,' he admonished himself as he climbed under the blankets. 'Focus.' And with the practice of millennia, and despite everything, it only took five breath before he entered the Fade.

A knock on his door woke him up after what seemed mere seconds. Had he misjudged his companions yet again? Or... would she come to him now? Steal into his room like she had so many nights before. 'No, she would be too proud,' Solas thought sadly, and loathed himself for wanting it to be her. How had he become so weak? He tried to sense who it might be but came up with nothing.

Another knock. 'Who is this?'

Instead of an answer, Cole appeared next to his bed. 'I brought someone who can help.'

Solas stared at Compassion. 'Cole, who is on the other side of that door?'

'A... he can explain it better.'

Warily, Solas slid out of bed and reached for his staff. 'Let him in, Cole.'

Compassion opened the door and a hooded man stepped into the room. He carried a staff and wore a black coat adorned with raven feathers. This was no ordinary man, but a mage.

No, wrong again. The stranger drew the hood back, revealing a haggard, haunted face. But his eyes, hypnotic blue swirls like a Fade storm, representation of great power that stirred a yearning in Solas' heart for what he had lost.

The word for what he represented only existed in the past, lost like so many other countless marvels, only to be replaced by misremembered memories and bold-faced lies. The lie that was an abomination. Such an ugly term for the beautiful unity, for indeed the natural state of all beings.

'I have read Varric's _Tale of the Champion_. I believe you are Anders,' Solas observed as the blonde mage looked around the room before he decided to take a seat in the only available chair.

'I will let you talk. Listen to what he has to say. I think it might change your mind,' Cole said and then stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

'I doubt that,' Solas said out loud but he was intrigued by the other's presence. Especially since in the book, Hawke had stuck a knife between Anders' shoulder blades and left him for dead. 'But I admit I am curious how you got here undetected, and why. I would say we are in the Fade if I wasn't sure that we are awake.'

For the first time, the other spoke but it was not the voice of a man, it was the voice of a spirit. Spirit voices had a distinctive resonance, an echo, a reflection of their true state of being, something that had the potential to be many things. 'Compassion found me and let me here through the Eluvian. A friend of mine had one in Kirkwall and I have found many more across the world since my wanderings began. Apart from that, I had a lot of practice moving around undetected in the past four years. When the world thinks you are dead, it is sometimes wiser to let it think it is correct. I am sure you can sympathise.'

Solas chuckled and shook his head. 'Yes. And I'm sorry for laughing, but it has been a very long time since I have encountered someone so close to what the world has lost.'

'Is that what we are? What I am?'

'Well, you are not of the People, and unlike the ancient elves, you have not been whole since you came into the world. Nevertheless, you carry the spark and you are effectively immortal.'

'And that is what you wish to bring back?' Anders asked.

Solas took a deep breath before he said, 'Yes.'

'Don't do it,' Anders replied firmly, and as he spoke, his voice changed to a pleasant but mortal range and the blue light of the Fade vanished from his eyes to be replaced by an ordinary brown.

'Don't do it,' Anders repeated, now looking for all intense and purpose like any other human man. He looked older than he probably was. The blonde beard and hair streaked with grey, locks twisted and matted into dreads that reached below his shoulders.

Solas could feel that the transformation had also drained the joy of meeting someone so close to himself in nature. How curious that something so superficial could have such a deep impact? Wasn't he himself proof enough that one should never judge a book by its cover?

Out loud he said. 'I made a grave mistake and it is my responsibility, my duty, to correct it.'

To Solas surprise, the other man snorted, 'You sound like Sebastian.'

Solas knew from the book who Anders was referring to but decided to ignore it and asked instead, 'My people, no, the whole world was ripped apart by what I have done to protect it. You are a healer, are you not? Would you not seize the opportunity to give a dying being its life back if you could?'

Anders seemed to be lost in thought before he answered, each word pronounced carefully and slowly. 'I once thought the same. I had to change the world, right the wrong, be the sword of Justice and free the mages. I didn't see it that way back then but I know now that deep down I wanted to be the next Andraste, leading the slaves to freedom. Just as you did not cast the Veil to protect the world.'

'How would you know...' Solas started but Anders interjected.

'It was a long journey, Compassion and I had a lot to talk about. You might tell yourself you did it to protect the world but in your heart, you know that is not true. You did it for _her_.'

Solas leaned back and said, 'Ah, yes, I see what you mean. However, although Mythal's death was the catalyst, she was not the reason. The Evanuris were destroying the world. They had to be stopped.'

Anders cocked his head at him. 'Is that really what you are telling yourself?' Solas was about to speak but the other man was answering his own question. 'I suppose it is easier to paint yourself as the tragic hero against impossible odds than to face the fact that you were an avenging lover. It sounds less... petty.'

Solas could feel the anger starting to rise in him. In his youth, he would have already ripped this insolent human's head off but with age came wisdom and patience, although, Anders was chipping away at the latter. 'Why are you here?'

'Compassion asked me to tell you, to show you that although you would consider me whole, my life is empty. For all I have accomplished, I am not whole and I feel no pride. I feel nothing. I carry a void inside of me that grows larger with every day. I am not whole because I turned my back on the one I loved, and now I have the blood of thousand of innocent people on my immortal hands. An eternity of torment awaits me.'

'To save millions! There are always sacrifices in war. It is a heavy burden, believe me no one understands this better than I do. Maybe you haven't lived long enough to understand his yet. It wish I could tell you it gets easier with time.'

Anders shook his head. 'I sought to free mages from slavery and look what they have done with their freedom! All this chaos and in the end they are now talking about re-establishing the Circles out of their own free will. I have accomplished nothing other than death and destruction. I am forever the villain in this story, and forever alone. Do you want to be alone forever?'

Solas sighed, 'I know what must be done will be my undoing and it is only fit if the price is that our people regain what I destroyed in an act of desperation. I would not have Ellana see what will become of me.'

'And how do you think the people who survive your mad plan will feel when they realise that for their “wholeness”, their parents, their lovers, their children, all the civilisations of the world had to be slain? You won't be around – again – to take the blame because I have a feeling that you are indeed planning to end yourself. What a noble and glorious sacrifice, Fen'harel!' Anders spat sarcastically.

Something inside Solas grew still and very, very cold. 'Go. Go back to where you came from unless of course,' he gripped his staff tighter, 'you wish to stop me.'

'I can't die. Not even the Taint can claim me now,' Anders reminded him calmly.

'There are worse things than death,' the elf replied, waiting for an attack that never came. He had meant it as a threat but realised too late that he may have reinforced Anders notion that existence as an immortal was worth than a death sentence.

Anders chuckled mirthlessly, 'I said that once to him, and it turns out I was correct, at least that one time. But I was wrong in so many other things.'

'If Hawke had truly loved you, he would have at least offered to help you, instead he stuck a blade into your back.'

Anders looked up at the elf with a furrowed brow, 'Hawke was not my lover.'

Solas blinked, slightly taken aback. 'My apologies, I didn't mean to...'

'Fenris. It was Fenris.'

Solas frowned at the other. 'Then Master Tethras is even more of a liar than I thought he was. If my memory serves me right, he wrote the Tevinter slave hated all mages and you in particular.'

Anders sighed, 'Yes, he did.' The elf was about to say that this made no sense when the other continued, 'Until I changed his mind. It took a great deal of effort but I'm sure you understand that no sacrifice is too great if you truly love someone. So, I changed his mind, and his heart, only to break it because I thought I had to be cruel to be kind. I thought I had to protect him. I turned my back on him because I knew he would stop me and put an end to my plans. I thought I had to change the world by myself and I chose the worst possible way to do it. With him by my side I might have done things differently.'

Finally, Solas understood what Cole had tried to accomplish by bringing Anders here. It was kind in a way and some of the things the other had said echoed in him but it changed nothing. He looked again at the creature he had initially thought of as a kindred but now he could see the cracks and flaws. Most likely a human mind was simply not build to coexist with a spirit. It only reaffirmed his theory that all but the People would perish in the chaos to come.

'I am sorry that you had to make this long journey but, please, go in peace,' Solas said calmly, indicating the door.

To his astonishment, Anders simply shrugged and said, 'I gave it my best shot but who am I to give a god advice? I am after all just an immortal fool and murderer with no hope of redemption. Take a good look, Fen'harel, like it or nor, I am your future.'

Instead of replying Solas opened the door. When Anders drew level with him, he turned his head, eyes blazing, and the voice of Justice said, 'Tonight you will be visited by three spirits.'

The elf raised an eye-brow. 'I often have my friends come and visit me in the Fade. Which three exactly?' It was meant to be sarcastic but Justice had no sense of humour, 'A spirit of the past, a spirit of the present, and a spirit of the future.'

'I have not heard of spirits representing time as such so this should be interesting. Good-bye, Anders.'

The human mage carrying Justice in his mind put up his hood and stepped into the night without another word. Solas watched as the figure blended with the shadows and disappeared as if he had never been there at all.

The elf closed the door and leaned his staff next to the bed. 'This changes nothing,' he said and pulled the blankets over himself. Before sleep claimed him, he murmured, 'Elgar'Melava, Elgar'Melana, Elgar'Mahvir? Din'Dirthara!'

End of Act 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Elven Language in Dragon Age](http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Elven_language)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Din: not or isn't  
> Dirthara: learn, seek truth.  
> Elgar: spirit  
> Mahvir: tomorrow.  
> Melana: time.  
> Melava: time, past tense. 
> 
> Din'Dirthara = Bah, Humbug!


	3. Melava, Melana, Mahvir - Act 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dramatis Personae:
> 
> Cole: Fred  
> Solas: Scrooge  
> Anders: Jacob Marley  
> Abelas: Elgar'Melava (Spirit of the Past)  
> Dorian Pavus: Elgar'Melana (Spirit of the Present)  
> Fen'harel: Elgar'Mahvir (Spirit of the Future)  
> Mythal: Belle  
> Ellana Lavellan: herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done - I need to do some editing but I will do it when I have more time. Let me know what you think! xx

'An interesting choice,' was all Solas said when he saw Abelas approach; or to be exact, the spirit who had taken on the form of the ancient sentinel they had encountered in Mythal's temple. Despite his protest, Solas had not entirely dismissed the possibility that Anders or Justice had spoken the truth.

'I am Past,' the spirit announced, just as Solas had expected as soon as he had appeared. 'Come, we have much to see.'

'What if I say no?' Solas asked, not that he would. This was a completely new experience. There was no way he would not want to explore this but it was not in his nature to be a follower. 

Apparently, the spirit knew that as well. 'You won't. But if it makes you feel better think of me as a guide, not a leader.' 

They walked through a fog so dense Solas could not make out his feet when he looked down. He sensed the spirit's presence and the direction they were headed in rather than seeing where they were going. 

When the fog lifted they stood in a forest. Trees so tall it would take at least ten people linking hands to circle a trunk. The emerald canopy grew so high up, it looked like a green sky with sunlight twinkling like stars between the leaves. 

Solas jumped when a young elven woman, her face adorned with Vallaslin, ran straight at and through him followed by a handsome young elven man with long brown dreads. Self-consciously, the mage rubbed his hand over his bald head and shrugged with a wry smile when he saw Abelas watching him with a frown on his face. 

His younger self had caught the girl around the waist and playfully wrestled her to the floor. They laughed and kissed, tearing at clothing as they explored each other with hands and lips. 

Solas turned away form the scene and said to the spirit, 'This is a private moment, we should leave them be.' 

But Abelas did not take his eyes of the lovers and replied, 'You don't remember what happened. Watch!' 

Reluctantly, the mage turned his gaze back to his younger self. The girl had wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her, both moaning and laughing. Solas felt like a pervert old man but suddenly his gaze was drawn to a tiny spark not far from the couple. 

It started as a small light that dissolved into mist. The cloud grew and grew, a shape forming rapidly, the shape of a woman, tall and proud. Solas gasped as he recognised her. The memory now forming in his mind at the same time as he watched it unfold in front of him. 

'Well, well, what have we here?' 

The lovers screamed in surprise. The young woman pushing at her lover, who quickly moved back from her. Both staring in surprise and fear at the elven woman, even the gleaming sunlight reflected on the surface of her golden armour paled in comparison to the piercing light in her eyes that seemed to see everything. 

'My lady,' the young elven girl whispered, throwing herself on the floor in front of the other woman's feet.

But Mythal ignored her, she only had eyes for the young man who was still staring up at her. 'Is that how you greet your queen?' 

Solas younger self cocked his head and after a few heartbeats, shamelessly stretched out his legs, leaving nothing to the imagination. His arousal had waned but he was still flushed and panting heavily. 'Good morning, Lady Mythal,' he said politely which stood in stark contrast to his posture.

The corners of the queen's mouth twitched as if she tried not to laugh before she turned to the girl, still prostrating at her feet. 'Go back to the palace, tell the matron to punish you accordingly for abandoning your chores.' 

Without another word the young elven woman obeyed, snatching her dress off the floor and ran into the forest, leaving Mythal and Solas alone.

'You have some nerve, seducing my servants, distracting them from their work. You know these girl's have sworn an oath not to lay with anyone until they have passed their final test and thus mastered their craft?' 

The young man gave her a cocky grin and said, 'Of course, or else it wouldn't be fun.' 

'Brazen brat!' The queen shouted as she lashed out with a magical whip that should have caught the young man across his naked chest. But where he had just sat, seemingly relaxing on the floor, was just empty air. Instead Mythal felt his warm breath caress her ear as he whispered, 'I like a challenge.' 

Abelas said, 'This was your first meeting.' 

He knew that of course although he had forgotten the details over time. Solas remembered now what would happen next. He would taunt the queen with the insolence all youth with too much power possessed. He would even challenge her to a contest, one she would win easily. 

Half the forest lay in ashes before the fight ended. However, instead of breaking him, Mythal would say as she stood over his prone and beaten body, 'I have been watching you for some time. You need guidance, young one, or your power will be your undoing. You have the gift, but it needs a gentle hand.' And with that she would extend her gauntlet and pulled him onto his feet. 

'I...' Solas younger self coughed, 'I will not be your slave.'

She laughed again. 'No, you don't have the temperament for it. I am asking you to be my student.' 

They looked at each other amidst the carnage until the young man finally said, 'I accept.' 

The scene faded into the dense mist from before. Solas could hear Abelas say, 'You remained by her side for a long time after this.'

'I know, I was there,' the mage replied sarcastically. 

Abelas did not seem to notice as he continued to tell Solas his own history. Fleeting images appeared in the clouds around them as the sentinel continued the story.

'When you finally left her side, you had gotten the attention and admiration of all the once who would be known as Evanuris. You returned to Mythal from time to time and especially during time of war. The student became her ally and trusted friend. You saved countless lives together, favouring shrewd words and clever plots over brute force.' 

Solas did not respond. The words were innocent but they made his heart ache as they tore on old scars that he thought had scabbed and healed long ago. 

'And over time, friends became lovers.' Solas tried not to look but his eyes seemed of have a will of their own as they watched Mythal holding him in her arms, kissing him, watched as their bodies joined as their souls had joined long ago. He watched as the lovers slept and an ever jealous husband watching them from the shadows. Elgar'nan had not looked kindly on Mythal favouring Solas over him.

Of course when you live forever the thought of only having one lover seemed preposterous. The joining of flesh was a fleeting pleasure but Elgar'nan saw a rival for power in Solas and thus regarded finding him in his wife's bed as a direct challenge.

When all attempts to drive a wedge between Mythal and Solas failed, Elgar'nan began to poison the Evanuris against his wife. He spread lies and hatred, stirred the others' lust for more power until the world plunged into another war. 

The fog cleared and another scene unfolded in front of them. 

'No!' Solas exclaimed and turned on his heel but Abelas stepped into his way. 'You need to see.'

'Not this, I can't.' 

But Abelas did not relent. 'You had left her side although she had asked you not to as the war was at a critical stage. However, you had retreated to your valley, gathering your forces when this occurred.' 

With horror Solas watched as Mythal walked into a trap set by Elgar'nan and his allies. Someone howled in anguish as they tore her apart with their combined power until not even ashes remained. When the scene faded, Solas found himself kneeling on the floor, tears falling as he mourned her again. Grief gave way to anger and he screamed then, unleashing his power on Abelas who blocked the attacks best he could until the sentinel lay defeated on the ground, and laughed. 

Some semblance of sanity returned and Solas cried angrily, 'Why are you laughing?' 

Abelas chuckled. 'You just made my point for me. Without her, your power is wild and destructive. You need a gentle hand to steady your heart or else it will bring nothing but despair.' And with those words, the spirit of Past vanished, leaving the elf alone in the mist.

Solas looked around but there was nothing, nothing at all. He felt cold and drained. The Fade had not tested him this much for quite some time. He tried a breathing technique to calm and centre himself, and just when he had regained a semblance of control, he could hear footsteps approaching. 

'There you are,' called a familiar, cheerful voice. Solas closed his eyes and groaned. 

'I've been looking all over for you,' the ghost of the Present said. He was the spitting image of Dorian Pavus, down do the last rivet. 

'Whatever it is you have to say, say it now and be gone,' Solas commanded firmly. There was no way he was going to endure another round of emotional anguish with Dorian Pavus standing by, looking smug. 

'Oh, I am not going to say anything. Just step this way, please,' Dorian said courteously and bowed slightly, perfectly manicured hand indicating the direction.

Solas jaw ached from clenching his teeth as he decided to do what the spirit wanted if only to get this over with more quickly. He took the first step and was startled as he stood in the middle of Ellana's room. 

The fire in the fireplace had turned to ambers. A single candle burned on the nightstand. The Inquisitor was lying on her bed on top of the covers, she was still dressed in the same clothes she had worn earlier this afternoon. She didn't cry, she just lay on her front eyes fixed onto the closed window. 

She cried out as the mark flared when Solas and the spirit entered the room undetected. 'You started all this,' she said accusingly, staring at the flickering green light. 'You are what drew him to me in the beginning, so tell me, what is it he is running away form now? I know he loves me as I love him. What is he afraid of?' 

Solas was surprised to say the least. He had expected tears, heartbroken anger, maybe denial but again she showed him that he kept misjudging her as she had shown him in the past that he had misjudged all the creatures in this strange world he had created. In the beginning he had thought of them all as broken, unfinished things, tools at best and beasts at worst. Until he had met her. 

'They are alike, don't you think?' Dorian whispered, standing too close for Solas' liking. The elf took a half step sideways to create more distance between them. He knew of course that this was a spirit but the uncanny resemblance and the habit of spirits to take on the traits of the person they were mimicking, made Solas skin crawl in this instance. 

Instead of answering he countered with his own question, 'Why are we here?' 

'Why do you think?'

'I already know I broke her heart,' as it broke my own, he thought but didn't say it out loud. 

'He will just push me away now if I go looking for him, be it in his room or the Fade. Creators, does he not know that we need each other now more than ever?' Ellana asked her hand as if it could provide her with all the answers. 'How can someone be this intelligent and so fucking dense at the same time?' 

Solas huffed. 'Can we go now, please? This serves no purpose!' 

'Oh yes, it does. You need to listen to her because contrary to your impression, she knows exactly who you are,' Dorian said, and corrected himself by adding,' Well, maybe not the whole ancient rebel god angle, but she has a talent for seeing through people's bullshit and liking them anyway. That's probably why she is my best friend. Well, that and because of my obvious charms, of course.' 

Solas shook his head and simply turned to walk away but Dorian held him back. 'Take you hand off, right now! Spirit or not, I will defend myself.'

Dorian took his hand away, held it up, and even stepped backward but before the elf could walk away from him, he said, 'Solas, this woman is not just my best friend. She is also yours, and you know it. She is not frail, she certainly doesn't need to be protected. Maker, she is going to face down one of the Magisters who breached the Golden City, and you know what, she is going to win. There is nothing in this world or the Fade she would not do for a friend in need, and you do need her Solas. You might like the image of the lone wolf, Fen'harel, but you know what, wolves need a pack to succeed. All a lone wolf ever achieves is to go feral, he becomes a scavenger and then gets killed once someone stronger comes along. And there is always someone stronger in the end. But you know all that, don't you? What with you being so clever and all.' 

Solas had listened with his back turned, and he did not turn now when he said, 'I do know. But I have made up my mind and I will walk the Din'Anshiral. It's the only way. Now leave me be.' 

The room vanished as did the spirit. Solas found himself back in the fog although it seemed darker now. 

The air grew colder. Solas could see his breath and he shivered. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. And out of the darkness came a growl he could feel with every fibre of his body. The earth shook beneath the feet of a great beast that came closer with every heartbeat. 

Solas turned, staff ready and stared into the maws of Fen'harel. A giant six-eyed wolf towered over him, blood smeared around his snout, its breath stank of death and decay. 

'You are Elgar'Mahvir?' Solas asked, forcing his voice to remain calm. 

The wolf nodded. When it spoke it sounded like a snarl, 'I am your future.' 

'What do you want of me?' 

The beast turned it's head, the fog parted and revealed a dead world. The sky was crimson, flickering with lightning. The earth was black, the rivers were overflowing with blood, demons were fighting each other in the distance. They were the only sign of life. 

Solas stared at this hell and said, 'No, this is nothing but a projection of my worst fears. This is not what is going to happen.' 

The wolf barked. 'Oh, but it is. We tore down the Veil and the world burned. Spirits and the living suffered from the shock. Those who didn't die outright, perished in the aftermath. For without the Veil, they returned and they were furious. But they were no match for us. There was no-one who could stop us. One by one we devoured them, snapped their bones and drank their essence. Their tainted power filling us to the brim. And so we rule the world where spirits and demons for all eternity re-enact the last battles before the living parted forever from this world. Behold the glory that is Fen'harel.' 

'No. No! That is impossible. It shouldn't happen this way. It wasn't meant to happen this way,' Solas protested, he watched in horror as the demons tore each other apart, only to reform and do it all over again.

'This is your future. I am your future, Fen'harel,' the wolf laughed and howled with joy as Solas screamed.

It was quiet in the darkness of his room. Solas was soaked in sweat, the blankets twisted around him, trapping him. He had to get out, he needed air. 

Solas all but fell out of bed and ripped the door open. Ellana was a dark outline in front of the rising sun. 'Solas, I...'

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. 'Forgive me, vhenan. Please forgive me. There is something I need to tell you.' 

'Solas...'

The sky exploded and the mark flared. Ellana screamed in agony. 'Help me to the war room, please,' she said between clenched teeth. 

'Vhenan, I need to tell you...'

She pressed her forehead to his and whispered, 'Tell me when the day is done. I have a Magister to kill.'

The End


	4. Foretelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #3
> 
> At the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Leliana has a vision.
> 
> Fenders reference included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: The first two spoken lines (Leliana and Zevran) are direct quotes from Dragon Age: Origins. The prayer Leliana recites before she touches the ashes is a quote from the Chant of Light, Transfigurations 10.

'I never dreamed I would ever lay my eyes on the Urn of Sacred Ashes... I... I have no words to expess...' Leliana began but the Antivan cut into her awe.

'Nice vase, I should get one for my house,' Zevran commented dryly. 

She felt the violent urge to punch him but suppressed it as they stood on holy ground. However, she made a mental note to get back at him later. The nerve of the elf was sometimes unbelievable. There was more to life than being gorgeous and deadly. 

Leliana only hoped that Sereda shared her view despite being brought up a noble dwarf who believed in the Stone. She had told the Warden many times about Andraste and the Maker, surely by now her friend had the good sense...

'I'm not touching that!' Sereda Aeducan announced after she peeked into the urn. 'Leliana, you do it.'

'What? Why me?' 

'You keep saying the Maker chose you for something big, here you go,' Sereda pressed a leather pouch into Leliana's unresisting hands. 'Get us a pinch and then we are out of here. Now that I look at it, maybe I should have listened to what Kolgrim had to offer.' She clicked her tongue and shoved Leliana closer to the urn. 

The archer tried to swallow but her mouth had run dry. Her hands were shaking as she took off her gloves. She didn't want to sully the holy ashes by accident. Dragon blood had seeped into the leather when they had defeated the High Dragon mother. 

'The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, and she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword,' Leliana prayed and reached out into the urn. 

'Make sure not to touch or take any of the naughty parts. The Maker might yet have use for them, no?' Zevran shouted. 

Leliana gasped at the blasphemy, 'How dare you!' She shouted but her fingers were already touching the ashes. 

Lights flashed before her eyes, her ears rang and the room seemed to spin. She heard someone moan and then she seemed to be floating. She was a spirit. A tiny soul among many. There was that moaning again as if in agony. She wanted to get closer, wanted to help if needed. Her new body obeyed. Soon she seemed to hover just outside a huge four poster bed. 

She looked down and saw a man and an elf in an intimate embrace. At first she thought it was Alistair and Zevran, if the two of them thought that no-one knew why they always wondered off together, they were sorely mistaken. 

But no, the elf had markings just like the Antivan crow, however these were white and seemed to be everywhere. 'Oh Maker,' Leliana thought, and was glad that she couldn't blush in this form. 

The other man was blonde and sad. He was a mage. She had no idea how, but she knew. She knew he was important. She knew he would be the last drop in an already full pail. 

The elf moved on top of the blonde man. She tried to turn away but, Andraste, they were gorgeous together. 

'This needs to become reality or the world will unravel,' a voice whispered in her ear, startling her, shaking her to the core. With a shout, Leliana sat up. 

'Sweet dreams?' Zevran asked. He was kneeling next to her. Maker, had he cradled her head in his lap? 'You were certainly making the most fascinating sounds.' 

'The ashes!' Leliana cried. 

'All taken care of,' Sereda announced, shaking the leather pouch in the air. 'You had us worried there for a little while, nugget.' 

The dream, it had felt so weird. She had known things. But now she couldn't recall what she had actually seen; the images dancing away from her memory. And the voice, had there been a voice?

'Come on, back to Redcliff,' Sereda called and marched out of the door with Shale in tow. 

'Are you all right, Leliana?' Zevran asked, serious for once. 

She pretended she didn't notice his genuine concern and fussed with her gloves. 'Yes, yes. Just a little overwhelmed. It was nothing.'


	5. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #4
> 
> Isabela has never celebrated ~~Satanalia~~ New Day before.
> 
> Fenders reference included. xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I prefer to use Thedas' New Day as a substitute for Christmas because the described customs are more in keeping with the festivities in our world.

She was ordering another drink when Fenris and Anders joined her on either side at the bar. She looked from one to the other and then asked, 'Hello?' 

Both were giving her their sexy smiles they only used when they wanted something, usually money. But she had never been ambushed by both of them at the same time. Something was up and they weren't sure she was going to like it, so they were trying to soften the blow. Now, who would make the first move? 

'What's a beautiful woman like you, doing in a dive like this alone, and on this day especially?' Anders started with a sleazy pick-up line. Sheesh, had she really fallen for that back in Denerim? She blamed Hawke. Hawke had ruined her by introducing standards into her life. The bastard!

She drank her rum and tried to ignore Fenris smouldering at her. Damn, why did he have to be so effing gorgeous? She had to cut this short or they would stand here all day, dancing around the issue instead of just telling her what it was they wanted. 

'Look, boys, not that this isn't fun but could you pretty please with sugar on top just fucking tell me what it is you want?' 

Anders and Fenris exchanged a glance. 'Come on, let's go then.' Anders said and smiled at her. Fuck, maybe she had just ignored the terrible flirting back in the days because he, too, looked absolutely good enough to eat. 

Whatever. The rum was gone and she could use a distraction. 'Okay.' 

They were making their way to Hightown, presumably Fenris' mansion. The boys were awfully tight-lipped about the where and why. A lot of people were about. Everyone seemed to be happy and getting along for once. There were what seemed to be spontaneous parties in the streets. People were drinking and hugging and singing old songs. 

But no party for Isabela, she thought and mentally kicked herself for the broody thought. They already had one of those in their weird little circle of friends. If they still were her friends. Hawke had not spoken to her since the Qunari uprising. 

Isabela consoled herself by watching Fenris and Anders walk ahead of her. Such a shame they were doing each other instead of her. Oooh, now there was a pretty thought! Maybe they could do with a bit of Isabela in the mix. What with it being a special day, allegedly. Not that she cared. 

At the entrance to Hightown, Fenris produced a red piece of cloth and asked her, 'Do you trust us?' 

She narrowed her eyes and looked from one to the other but ever since the sexy thought had entered her mind, she had been fantasising about all sort of delicious things she could do with these two naked together. 

'Just because today is supposed to be festive, or whatever. But if I wake up naked and tied to a pole... never mind. Give it here!' She snatched the cloth from Fenris and blindfolded herself. 'I can feel you waving your hands in front of my eyes,' she said in a bored voice. 

Fenris and Anders took her hands and led her through the market and up the stairs and turned right but instead of turning right again they turned left. Isabela was about to dig in her heels but Anders and Fenris must have sensed her intend because they gripped her hands tighter and also her elbows, effectively lifting her off the ground and carrying her into Hawke's mansion. 

They let her go in front of the fireplace. Isabela ripped the blindfold off and was about to shout about devious, scheming liars when she saw that they were all here. Aveline and Donnic, Merrill, Anders and Fenris of course, Varric, even Bethany, and Hawke. 

Garrett grinned at her sheepishly. He was wearing an outrages and ill-fitting housejacket that could have only been a gift from a family member for special occasions. The house was brightly decorated and it smelled heavenly like cakes and roasts. 

'It is a day you should celebrate with family,' Garrett said, awkwardly taking her hand, placing it over his heart and covering it with his own.

'Is that what we are?' Isabela asked, trying very hard not to get all sappy just because Hawke was such a sodding sweetheart. 

Instead of answering, Garrett leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss. 'Happy New Day, Isabela.' 

She hesitated for a few seconds before she said for the first time in her life, 'Happy New Day, Hawke.'

The End


	6. Tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #5
> 
> Cullen used to decorate the stone golem back home for ~~Satanalia~~ New Day.
> 
> Fenders reference can be spotted by those who have read Tales of the Tiger and in the unofficial add-on which is buried as Chapter 3 in the Impossible Tales.

'Maker's breath, you?' Cullen cried out in surprise. 

Five minutes earlier, he had been busy shouting orders at recruits when the Bull's Chargers arrived at Skyhold. Out of the corner of his eyes, he absent-mindedly noticed a throng of what he decided to call interesting people walk past him and straight to the tavern. 

'Iron Bull certainly knows how to pick them,' he thought before he shouted, 'That's a shield in your hand, block with it!'

The tall, second in command, what was his name again? Krem! Yes, Krem shouted at a couple of stragglers from their motley crew. 'Tiger! Ghost! Stop the canoodling and step to it! Last one in buys the first round. Glitter, leave that chicken alone!' 

'This is the worst idea ever,' Cullen heard someone mutter behind his back but he was too busy getting annoyed at another pathetic blocking attempt to turn around. 

'Relax, Tiger. We are only here for a couple of days before our assignment and you-know-who is out with the Inquisitor. No-one has to be the wiser,' the other one, presumably Ghost, replied. 

'Odd,' Cullen thought his eyes narrowing in suspicion. He did turn around then but his mind scattered at the sight of the one Krem had addressed as Glitter. 

'Have we met? I usually pay little attention to squishy things,' the Golem said arrogantly. 

'Andraste, how did you...?' Cullen began but his brain was too frightened to finish the question. Events from his childhood rushed at him form the depth of repressed memories. 

Mia taunting him, daring him to touch the statue in the main square. Everyone was afraid of Shale, the Golem who had allegedly beaten the resident mage to death before it had been deactivated. 

He remembered the cheers of the other kids when he had finally had the balls to lay his hand on it for the first time. Touching the Golem was a rite of passage in Honnleath. But Cullen, again egged on by his elder sister, had taken the challenge to a new level. 

It had been the eve before New Day when all through the town not even a chicken was running around. The young boy was sneaking, up to no good, with bunting and baubles to where the Golem stood. He adorned it in silver and in red and in green, a prettier statue had never been seen.

And oh, how on New Day, to Cullen's delight, the whole village was cheering, enthralled by the sight. And form that day onward, a new rite was born. All children came to together, the Golem to adorn. 

'Oh, but I do know you, don't I? Hair like a curly chicken! You were the one who started it all!' Shale boomed. Cullen felt the urgent need to run for the privy, if only his knees could agree to obey him again. Every pair of eyes in the courtyard was now fixed on them but the Commander doubted that it would stop Shale from squashing him like an overripe grape. 

To his surprise the Golem stepped forward and pulled Cullen into a one arm hug. It felt like being gently crushed by a boulder.

'Thank you so much! If it hadn't been for you, I would have been covered in bird shit forever. But thanks to you, I got at least cleaned up once a year. And all those wonderful glittery things. I do remember even feeling a little sad when you left.' 

'Air!' Cullen gasped. 

'Oh,' Shale let him go and watched impassively as Cullen tried very hard not to pass out in front of every resident of Skyhold. He was just glad that Varric wasn't around to witness this scene, or else he would never hear the end of it. 

'Glitter, if you are done scaring the Commander to death, can you come before Tiger and Ghost finish off all the food? You know what they are like.' 

'I must be off. Oh, but it was so nice to see you have not been beaten into a bloody mess yet what with you being just a fragile fleshy thing. Ta ta.' 

Cullen watched as Shale trotted after Krem and then started to curse as she noticed she wouldn’t fit through the door. 

'You are welcome,' Cullen muttered and smiled. He secretly wondered whether she would let him decorate her again this year. Just for old time's sake. 

The End


	7. Sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #6
> 
> Legend goes that Andraste was born the Eve of ~~Satinalia~~ New Day.
> 
> Slightly smutty Fenders reference included. xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NB: I understand the prompt to refer to the evening before Christmas, not the evening of Christmas. Since I prefer Thedas' New Day, 1st Wintermarch, and since all months in Thedas have thirty days, I make Andraste's rumoured birthday out to be 30th Haring.

'Sebastian, is it true that Andraste was born on 30th Haring?' Fenris asked from the other end of the table where he was sitting next to Anders and pretended he didn't like how their legs were touching due to the cramped space. 

'It is not official canon but some people choose to believe it, yes,' the archer confirmed before he started to elaborated on apocryphal verses of the Chant that hinted at the date. No one was interested but since it was a holiday of sorts, everyone was on their best behaviour and pretended to listen. 

Except for Anders who was too busy glaring daggers at the smirking elf. Why you, Anders thought. Suddenly, Fenris twitched as if he had been not so gently kicked under the table. He tried to cover it up by coughing which, thankfully, also stopped the prince from talking. 

'Is something the matter, Fenris?' Hawke asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion over his goblet. Garrett had invited everyone to a family meal in his mansion to celebrate into the new year. The real reason was of course that Sebastian had duties at the Chantry during New Day and wouldn't be able to join them. Chaste and straight, my arse, Anders thought. 

'Oh, nothing,' Fenris replied still trying very hard not to laugh out loud. 

'No no, you don't get to be all smirky and then going back to being the broody, silent type,' Varric said. 'I want to know what's going on!'

'So do I,' Isabela chimed in after she had finished her drink. Other voices joined in and Fenris was about to speak when he heard a muttered, 'If you say one word I will freeze your balls off. Right here, right now.' 

Fenris seemed to contemplate the pros and cons for a second before he said, 'I was just wondering why people weren't celebrating on 30th Haring, given that the Bride of the Maker was born today instead of tomorrow.' 

'A good question, you see traditionally...,' everyone glared at Fenris because Sebastian was at it again and there would be not stopping him now. But since listening to the prince talk put a lovely glow on Garrett's face, they all put up with it. It was Hawke's party after all. 

When all attention was focused elsewhere, Anders leaned closer and whispered into Fenris' ear, 'Good boy, you might get that New Day blowjob that I have promised you yet.'

Fenris suppressed a pleasant shiver and replied just as quietly, 'I think I'm not the one who should be getting presents today. It's not just Andraste's birthday after all.' 

'Why Fenris, you would blaspheme by performing wanton acts on an apostate on our Lady's birthday?' Anders chuckled but stopped when he saw the heat in Fenris' eyes. 'For you, anything.' 

The End


	8. Battle Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #7  
> Cassandra always hated the annual masquerade balls during Satinalia.
> 
> Fenders reference included - same universe that "Tradition" take place in.

'Do I need to pay you for this?' Cassandra had meant the question to be ironic but the healer known to her as Tiger pursed his lips before he shrugged and said, 'I think Iron Bull considers us hired as a whole package deal. So no, I don't think so.' 

Cassandra raised her eye-brow but said nothing. Ghost was sitting on a nearby crate, waiting for his lover to finish healing the training injury.

They were part of the Bull's Chargers albeit the most elusive members of the group. They only showed up under cover of darkness and only for a few hours. When you were looking for them they were nowhere to be found, and so far only Cassandra and Cole seemed to have ever even seen them at all. 

But, they were no problem so Cassandra didn't pry. In fact, Ghost had been extremely helpful this night up to the point of course where he had nearly cut off her arm while they were sparring in the moonlight. 

Thoughts circling around their imminent departure to the Winter Palace had kept the former Seeker awake until she had given up and decided to train instead of wasting time by not sleeping and worrying about things she could not change or influence anyway. 

Cassandra tested the movement of her arm and shoulder. Despite the magic, she would be sore for the next few days. That she was able to move the arm at all was testament of Tiger's exceptional skills. 

'Not bad. Maybe I should ask Leliana to recruit the pair of you into the Inquisition full time?' Cassandra said, hoping it sounded as the genuine offer it was meant to be. 

The couple exchanged a glance before Ghost snorted and Tiger coughed awkwardly. 'Thank you, Seeker, that's a very flattering proposition but we are fine.'

Cassandra pursed her lips and looked from one to the other as she was struggling to put her torn shirt back on. Maybe she should ask the spymaster to investigate these two after all. 

In an unsubtle attempt to distract her, Tiger asked. 'What happened there?' He pointed to an old scar that had healed poorly. The flesh on her upper arm had twisted into a gnarly, dark line. 

'Oh, that. I could have used someone like you twenty-five years ago.'

'What happened?' Tiger pried. 

'Why?' 

'Professional curiosity.'

Cassandra sighed heavily. Now she was back where she had started, thinking about the Winter Palace. There seemed to be no escape from it. 

'When I was thirteen, my uncle was desperately trying to turn me into the noble lady he envisioned me to be. Don't give me those looks, I happen to agree with you. That life was not for me,' Cassandra said, and unconsciously covered the scar on her arm with her hand. 

'My uncle sent me all the way from Nevarra to the Grand Satinalia Ball at the Winter Palace. He wanted me to marry into a noble Orlesian family to restore our family name but that's an even longer story. All you need to know is that I was very young, and hated every minute of it. The pretence, the arrogance, it was like being stuck in a cage of lies and silk. Every word, every gesture, everything you did was scrutinized and judged. Do you know what that's like?' 

A long, long glance this time between the lovers before they both said, 'We know.' Cassandra made a mental note to definitely talk to Leliana about these two before she continued her story.

'A distant cousin from Nevarra was also present at the ball. She saw me as a rival and when it was time to dance the first dance she tripped me up. I fell, my mask slipped, my dress tore and when I reached out to steady myself I managed to pull a full suit of decorative armour on top of me. Every pair of eyes was on me that day.' 

'The suit of armour cut your arm?' Tiger asked.

'The armour? Maker, no. I was so furious I grabbed the blunt sword, struggled to my feet and charged at my cousin. Two guards tried to stop me but I evaded them and just before I was about to strike, a Chevalier stepped in, grabbed me and twisted the weapon out of my hand. He was dressed as a griffon. He held me so tightly and I struggled so hard, the talon of his gauntlet shredded my arm. When he let me go, I ran away and locked myself into a room. When they finally broke down the door the wound was infected and healed poorly.' 

'I'm sorry,' Tiger said, obviously at a loss for what else to say.

'Don't be,' Cassandra said with a twinkle in her eye, 'I love this scar. It was a price I paid gladly. My uncle never forced me to attend any balls ever again.'

Ghost chuckled and Tiger smiled at her. These two weren't so bad, she thought. Maybe talking to Leliana could wait a bit, it was not a priority. Cassandra looked to the sky; it was nearly dawn now. 

Who knew, maybe going to the Winter Palace wouldn't be such a terrible thing after all. She had fought there and survived, and she had the scar to prove it. 

The End


	9. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #8  
> Zevran misses the week long celebrations they had in Antiva.
> 
> Fenders reference included, however, this is very much Alistair/Zevran hurt/comfort and nsfw.

He had never liked the Deep Roads, seriously who did, apart form the dwarfs of course and not even all of them. But they were a convenient place if one had to disappear and Hawke had revealed that a safe entrance was close by which ought to be free of Darkspawn since a group of Grey Wardens had passed through Kirkwall not too long ago. 

Meeting the Champion of Kirkwall and her charming companions had been very entertaining. It could have been even more entertaining had the warrior with the tattoos and huge sword not been the jealous type. Really, a little harmless flirting with the cute, blonde mage and Zevran had gotten a glowing fist stuck into his chest, accompanied by a death threat delivered in a low, sexy growl. Some people had evidently never learned how to share. Zevran sighed and rubbed his upper body which thankfully still contained a beating heart because he had backed off quickly. 

The entrance had been easy enough to find and when nothing vicious materialised for quite some time, Zevran picked up his light travel pack and stepped into the darkness. Maybe if he could pick up the Wardens' trail, he could accompany them for a bit, and he would even make it out alive. 

He quickly found signs of Warden activity: corpses of darkspawn and remnants of a camp. They had a bit of a head start but it shouldn't be too difficult to follow them. 

After about two days underground, Zevran literally walked into them as he turned a corner. A tall man in full Warden armour grunted as they collided and immediately began to apologise for his existence, only to stop in mid-sentence when Zevran had gotten back on his feet. 

'Maker,' the Warden gasped and when he removed his helmet, it was Zevran's turn to be startled. 

'Alistair,' Zevran said weakly, the sight of his former companion stirred sleeping dogs in his heart that he had intended to let lie there until the day the Maker returned. 

'It's good to... damn,' the tall man stepped forward and to their mutual surprise pulled the elf into a tight embrace. 

'While I would otherwise not mind spending some time in your arms, this is actually very uncomfortable, my friend,' Zevran groaned as he was crushed by the Grey Warden armour. 

Alistair released him quickly and apologised again. 'It's... it's really nice to see you. How long has it been?' 

A rhetorical question for sure. Zevran had no doubt that if prompted the other could tell anyone to the very minute how much time had passed since Kallian had given her life for the world. Zevran swore under his breath and tried to push down the emotions that were bubbling to the surface. He had refused to think about it, had locked the memories away in order to be able to keep going, to survive because she wouldn't want him to give up.

'You need to promise me not to die,' she had said and he had promised right before she had kissed him for the last time, right before she had gone and died herself like all heroes did, at least the ones in the good stories that were shared around the camp fires at night right before the battle at dawn that you had no hope of winning. 

Years of conditioning as a Crow to be nothing but an instrument of death had been his salvation after that day. But it was so hard to remember to keep your guard up when Alistair was looking at you with his sodding trusting eyes. Even after all this time the man still radiated clumsy, adorable innocence like a Mabari puppy. 

'Zev... are you hungry? You must be hungry. Our camp is over there. Come, I introduce you. We were going to have a little party, 'cause it's Satinalia,' Alistair babbled and gestured toward the end of the tunnel where Zevran could make out an opening. 

The former Crow took a deep breath before he agreed to join them, which had been his original plan after all. Alistair smiled at him which made him smile in return, how could he not? 

Four other Wardens were part of the group. Two dwarfs, brother and sister, both bearing the marks of former Dustdown dwellers, a haughty elven woman and a human mage, who was so old, Zevran was surprised to see he still had all his teeth when the man smiled which he did often. He told filthy jokes, too, a fact appreciated by all except for the elven woman who made disgusted noises and soon volunteered for sentry duty, giving Alistair the opportunity to spent time with his former companion. 

'You are Antivan, 'ey?' The old mage, who was called Septimus Lucretius, asked.

'That's right, my friend,' Zevran replied. 'It's the accent, isn't it? It can't be anything else these days. I have been away form home for so long, I all but lost my lush bronze tan. I do so miss the sunshine.' Zevran sighed theatrically and fully expected Alistair to taunt him about his vanity but instead the warrior just looked at him fondly and said nothing. 

'I remember Satinalia in Anitva from my youth. My family travelled a lot. Oh, what a party that was! It lasted an entire week. Do they still do the parade where they throw sweets at the people? You know the ones, the ones that get stuck in your teeth?' Septimus asked eagerly. 

'Why, yes, of course. Tradition is very important to us. We dress up, mock the establishment, kill a few politicians and eat and drink until we pass out in our lover's embrace. Ah, you make me homesick, old man. What I wouldn't give to be there right now?' 

'Oh, I don't know. It's not so bad here,' Alistair said mockingly. 'Look, we are all dressed in funny attire. We have food that is most likely very bad for you. Seriously, do we even know what that thing is?' He gestured to the mangled creature that was roasting on the make-shift spit over the fire. They all shrugged, radiating indifference, before Alistair continued. 'And of course, we kill darkspawn instead of heads of state, but hey, is there really such a big difference? I can sing, if you really want me to. But please, don't make me, I beg you! My singing voice is atrocious.' 

They all laughed together and then burst into song anyway until the sourly elven woman came back and shouted at them for being idiots with a deathwish before she rushed off again in a huff. They collectively flipped her the bird once her back was turned but the mirth had drained away and they soon all sat in silence, chewing on their mystery meat. 

'Is there some place where I can wash up around here?' Zevran asked. He hadn't bathed in two days and felt rather grubby. 

'Yes, come on I'll show you,' Alistair offered and they left to track deeper into the tunnel. 

They walked in comfortable silence until they reached another cave that felt cooler than the others. Zevran could hear the splashing of running water close by. A few deerstalkers were quickly dealt with and soon Zevran was wading naked into a small stream. He hissed. The water was so cold it was painful but the need to wash was greater, he could bear it.

He methodically began to clean himself but was startled when Alistair suddenly stepped into the river as well. They had seen each other naked countless times when they had travelled together but this was the first time the warrior offered to help wash bits that Zevran couldn't necessarily reach by himself. It was only fair to return the gesture of course, and Alistair agreed without fuss. 

Not ten years ago the Warden would have blushed and squirmed but there was nothing of that now. All grown up I see, Zevran thought but said nothing. When they had finished they walked out of the water together, teeth rattling, but clean and smelling faintly of soap that Zevran had shared. 

Zevran was about to pick up his small cloth when he felt Alistair step close behind him and after a moment's hesitation, the warrior wrapped his arms around Zevran and pulled him against his chest. 'Is this okay?' Alistair asked, holding him close but not in way that the elf couldn't break away from him if he wanted to. 

What was he to say? He had not expected this at all, not from Alistair, never from Alistair. But apparently, time had changed many things. 'Yes,' is what he said out loud and leaned into the embrace. It had been a long time since he had indulged in the company of another which had to be the reason why his body responded to eagerly to the attention that was being paid. 

Alistair lowered his head and softly kissed Zevran's neck. The elf turned his head to give the warrior better access as he hummed his approval. He could feel Alistair's cock twitching against his ass. 'Still okay?' Alistair asked again as his hands started to caress and slowly turn Zevran around in his arms. 

'Yes,' Zevran said again before his mouth found Alistair's and they kissed. It seemed the taller man had held back up to this point but now he became bolder, exploring Zevran's body with his hands and lips, pressing a thigh against Zevran's cock until the elf moaned into the other's mouth. 

They fucked on the floor on a bed made from shirts and trousers to keep a little of the cold away. But neither of them cared at this point. Alistair used an elfroot potion to get Zevran ready before he pushed into him. Slowly, almost gently in the beginning until he was fully inside Zevran's tight heat. 

'Are you ready?' Alistair panted, breathless, still holding back. 

Zevran made a needy sound at the back of his throat. Despite all his flirting, he had not been with anyone since... but the thought scattered when Alistair took this as approval and moved, finding a rhythm that was driving them both closer and closer to the edge. 

'Touch yourself, I want to... I want to see you come undone,' Alistair moaned. 

It didn't take much before Zevran came, toes curling, head thrown back and shouting Alistair's name as the warrior fucked him harder, chasing his own release. 

They kissed again once the glow had worn off and the floor started to feel hard and cold. They grudgingly washed again albeit more quickly before they got dressed. When they had donned their small clothes, shirts and trousers, Zevran stepped in front of Alistair and tiled his head for another kiss. 

When they parted, he asked, 'Not that I'm complaining but what did just happen?' 

Alistair raised an eye-brow. 'I thought you of all people would recognise sex, especially as one of the participants?' 

Zevran scoffed and gently hit Alistair on the arm. The taller man pretended to be hurt. They slapped each other playfully until they started to giggle like teenagers which of course lead to more kissing and groping. 

Alistair felt as good as Zevran had always imagined he would. He had never done anything of course but no one could stop him form having the odd impure thought about this fellow companions, especially when they were so gorgeous. That had been before her of course. Before he had fallen for her... and lost her. 

'Hey, you are not alone, Zevran. We all lost her. I lost my best friend that day. I know it's not the same but please understand that you're not alone,' Alistair said gently as he placed soft kisses on Zevran's face. When had Alistair turned into a mind reader? Zevran asked something to that effect without stopping to return the caresses and kisses.

'After a few years down here, you learn to read and feel each other's pain,' Alistair murmured. 'It becomes part of who you are. When you're in a tight spot. When the next fight seems hopeless, you feel it and you comfort each other as best you can.' 

Zevran looked into Alistair's eyes then. 'Is that what this is? Comfort?' 

Alistair held his gaze and asked seriously, 'Do you want more?' 

Zevran looked away and thought about it before he replied. 'No.' He did not say, because it's not in either of us to give more. They both knew the score and that they would soon have to part ways again. But being with his friend like this, being able to share themselves, had soothed away some of the old pain and it was enough. 'Thank you, Alistair.' 

'Don't thank me, I needed this as much as you did,' the warrior admitted. 'Happy Satinalia, Zevran.' 

'Happy Satinalia, my friend.' 

The End


	10. Mercenary Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #9  
> The Chargers prepare for Christmas together. Modern au.
> 
> It's pure crack - I have no excuse and I am not sorry. Fenders is a feature in this story.

'I don't know, are you sure we should be doing this, boss?' Stitches asked as they dragged the enormous tree into the pub. 

'Stop asking stupid questions and push harder,' Krem groaned from the back, pine branches kept hitting him in the face. 

After much huffing and puffing and even fouler swearing the Christmas tree stood tall in his stand, taking up much of the space that was usually kept free for darts. 

'Okay, everyone. Let's start decorating,' the tall man known as Bull, owner of the establishment which served as a front for their real jobs as mercenaries, bellowed much to the chagrin of most of the crew. 

Grim and Rocky seemed to be the only ones enjoying themselves. The rest had asked awkward questions or outright complained about the plan to throw a Christmas party as a sort of job interview backdrop. 

Bull wanted to use the festivity to hire two new candidates to add to their weird little mercenary family. Everyone thought it was a really crap idea but Bull was the boss and he wanted a party, so a party he would get.

Skinner had vanished into the kitchen to make punch – more likely to drink whiskey and smoke – but no one protested as it would probably result in less things getting broken if she was elsewhere. 

'Boss, do Fenris and Anders even know why they have been invited?' Krem asked as he tried to untie the knots that the Christmas lights had magically tangled into while they had been stored in a box in the attic all year round. 

'I don't think so but they have been freelancing for us for so long, it won't come as a complete shock. Besides, they could use the stability. The Charger's are always under contract whereas freelancers go hungry most of the time. It will all work out.' Bull sounded confident, more confident than he felt but that was just as well. 

'I don't know, boss. Fenris has this overprotective streak when it comes to the doctor. Ever since he got him to sober up and stay off the juice, they have been inseparable. Do you remember how much they hated each other when they first met? Doc out of his head on those weird ass drugs he used to push, and Fen being all broody and violent. They could be a liability if they relapsed or... Maker, what's wrong with these fucking lights?'

'Give them here,' Bull said and swiftly untangled the lights before he handed them back. 'Listen, guys, they will be fine. I know they have been a bit of a challenge in the past but ever since they got it out of their system, and into each other,' there were some catcalls from the crew which made Bull flash his teeth, 'they have been really steady. It will be great.' 

'If you say so,' Krem shrugged and wound the lights around the branches, 'but I still think the kitten is overkill.' The tiny creature that had up to now been sleeping on the Bull's shoulder mewled softly. 'Don't listen to him, he is full of rubbish,' Bull cooed and gently scratched the kitten's ear. 

After Bull's speech they all got a bit more into the spirit and even started to sing albeit the filthy versions of old Christmas carols. 

'Okay, boys, light him up!' Bull called when they had finished. Rocky plugged in the lights, and nothing happened. The crew groaned in disappointment. 

'What's wrong now? I need it to be perfect!' Bull called but just as he had finished the lights turned on, bathing the room in twinkling red and blue and gold. 

'Hey, how did you manage that?' Skinner called to the tall, blonde woman who had not done much up to this point. 

'Old Swedish trick, you wouldn't understand,' she replied tartly. Skinner flipped her off in return. 

Before tempers could flare, someone knocked on the door. Bull answered it and Fenris and Anders stepped into the pub. 

'Here, for you,' Bull said and pushed the kitten into Anders' unresisting hands who stared at it, torn between bewilderment and awe. The mercenary leader grinned, wrapped his arms around Fenris shoulder and said proudly, 'Welcome to the family and Happy Christmas!' 

The End


	11. I Ate You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Advent Prompt #10  
> Carver catches a cold. His sibling ~~s~~ and friends tease him about his funny voice.
> 
> Working up to Fenders reference included.

'This seems to be the most promising entrance,' Varric said, looking at the Warden map which was spread out on the table in his suite. 

'I agree,' Anders chimed in. 

'Yes,' Fenris added which prompted Anders to reply, 'Oh, so we can agree on something after all. Watch out for flying pigs!' 

'Shut up, mage!' Fenris growled back. They had been at each other's throat the minute they had laid eyes on each other. Varric had began to seriously question Garrett's judgement when the Fereldan mage had picked these two to tag along on their expedition. But he was not about to argue that they needed muscle – Fenris – and the experience plus healer and Grey Warden bonus – that's where Anders came in handy. 

'I'm just saying we will be spending days, weeks perhaps, underground and in close proximity. We should start to get along lest something unfortunate might happen to a certain someone,' Anders retorted with what he had intended to be a thinly veiled threat. 

'Get a room already,' Varric mumbled which resulted in glares from both Anders and Fenris. 

However, before the situation could escalate further, a congested voice suggested from somewhere outside the room, 'Or you could leave Fenris behind and take your brother instead!' Only the words sounded nothing like that at all. 

They all exchanged a puzzled glance before Hawke asked, 'Carver, is that you? Your voice sounds funny.'

The younger Hawke stepped through the door. His eyes were glassy and teary, his nose was glowing red and he looked flushed. The healer impulse overruled his dislike for Carver and Anders stepped forward. 'Don't touch me, mage!' Carver hissed, only it sounded more like 'Doe toush me, maish.'

After one second of total silence, everyone burst out laughing. Everyone except Carver, of course, who was shouting at them to be quiet which made it even worse. 

Anders was the first to regain control. He wiped tears of laughter out of the corner of his eyes when he said, 'Carver, I'm afraid you are going nowhere for the next few days.'

'Doe tell me wha to do, maish!' The younger Hawke brother fumed, swaying slightly on his feet. 

'Carver, you have a cold. I prescribe rest and drinking lots of fluids – not alcohol – and maybe some chicken soup for comfort. Give it three, four days and you will be your sourly self again,' Anders said patiently. 

'Listen to the healer,' Garrett admonished and tried to put his hand on Carver's arm which only seemed to incense his brother even more. 'Fuck you! I'm not...' Carver's swearing was interrupted by violent sneezing which turned into a hacking cough. 

All assembled quickly covered their mouths and noses. The last thing they needed was for them to get sick. Carver slumped into a chair and tossed his head back while pinching his nose in an effort to stop the dripping. 

'Do somesin! Magi is supposed to elp men!' Carver whined but Anders just shook his head. 'Nothing I can do about the common cold.' 

Carver groaned. 'But I wanna come with!' He sniffled. 

'And do what? Sneeze at the darkspawn?' Garrett scoffed. 

'They can't get sick,' Anders said matter of factly. 

'Pity, I was almost ready to leave Fenris and take you as my secret weapon, Carver, but in that case,' Hawke teased. 

'I ate you!' Carver said earnestly. 

'Don't you mean, I hate you? Because otherwise, ewww.' 

Carver tried to kick Hawke who smartly stepped out of range. 'Listen here, baby brother. You go home and back to bed, and I will bring you something shiny back from the Deep Roads. We will be back by New Day, I promise.' 

Everyone tried really hard not to laugh when Carver looked ready to murder Garrett. 'I fucking ate you!' 

'I know, Carver, I know.' 

The End


End file.
